


The Logical Choice (Is Not Always Right)

by clotpoleofthelord (plantainleaf)



Series: The Logical Choice [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, M/M, Star Trek: TOS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:42:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 19,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plantainleaf/pseuds/clotpoleofthelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Dean Winchester's got his brother running his sickbay and the only Vulcan in Starfleet as his first officer. Life is good.</p><p>A Supernatural Star Trek AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thanks to cliffnotesofanerd/xaandria for the banner, and to drownedinblissfulconfusion/tundraeternal and deanhugchester/frecklesarechocolate for the AMAZING beta job/handholding through this fic. Seriously, wouldn't have gotten even a first chapter done without you guys.
> 
> And thank you to my entire dash for listening to my whining for a MONTH AND A HALF about this thing. Jeez.

_The flames are reaching higher around him as Dean struggles to free himself from the rocks. An ominous rumble from above makes him freeze, then pull harder at his pinned leg. He sees the bodies of his classmates on the ground surrounded by flames and debris and knows they’re not making it out of this. The ceiling isn't going to hold up much longer and no one knows he's here_ -

 ** _Captain_**. He jolts awake, sweating and shivering in his bed. The flames and heat and pain of Alastair are gone, and the voice is familiar.

He's safe. He’s at home in his quarters on the _NC-1967 USS Impala_. Dean takes a deep breath, then another, and drags a hand over his face. The door chimes again, and he stands, stumbling to the panel.

"Yeah?"

"Captain, may I enter?"

Dean sits up and swings his feet to the floor, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Computer, open door."

The door slides open, and Dean's first officer enters. 

"Hey, Cas. You need something, or is this a social call?"

To the average viewer, Cas's face might not to seem to change. But Dean's been watching his first officer for years, and he sees the flicker of discomfort pass over his face clearly.

"What's up, Cas? You look like you ate something that disagreed with you."

"Captain, I- " Castiel pauses, collecting his thoughts. "I sensed you calling out for me. Is everything all right?"

Dean collapses in a chair, sighing. "I'm fine, Cas. Just a crappy dream, that's all." He glances at his first officer. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, Captain. I was reviewing the security briefings. As you know, I do not require the amount of sleep a human does."

Dean snorts. "Yeah, but you like sleeping. Don't try and fool me with that eyebrow. I know how bitchy you get when something wakes you up early."

Castiel sits stiffly on the couch beside Dean. "Vulcans do not 'get bitchy', Captain."

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Dean when we're off duty, Cas?"

Dean sees the corner of his mouth twitch up for just a millisecond. “Would you like to discuss your dream, Captain?”

Dean rolls his eyes at the title and shakes his head. “No. Thanks, though.”

Castiel stands. “I will leave you to sleep.”

“Wait, Cas- you, uh, you don’t have to go. I’m not gonna get any sleep tonight anyway.” Dean shudders, remembering his nightmare. “Care for a few games of pool?”

Cas turns and inclines his head. “I would.” He reaches out tentatively, hesitating before landing his hand on Dean’s shoulder. “I am glad you’re all right, Captain.”

Dean smiles. “Yeah. Thanks, Cas.” He pats Castiel’s hand, stands, and grabs the cues, handing one to the Vulcan. “Now I’m gonna destroy you in pool.”

“That is unlikely.”

\-----

Dean’s dragging the next morning, running on too little sleep and a little too much whiskey the night before. Sometimes he forgets that as a Vulcan, Cas isn't affected by alcohol the way humans like Dean are, and that he was predictably restrained the night before. But his head is pounding and he’s not in the mood for trouble.

So of course, that’s when Starfleet sends them a transmission with a new mission.

Dean takes it in his quarters. He knows Admiral Singer’s fond of him, but he can’t handle his surrogate father’s particular brand of tough love in front of the whole bridge crew when his head feels the way it does.

Jo patches the transmission through and Bobby’s face pops up on the display.

“Hey, kid. You’re looking rough.”

“Admiral. Long night, that’s all. What can I do for you?”

Bobby sighs. “I got a mission for you, but I can tell you already that you’re not gonna like it.”


	2. Chapter 2

The mission sounds simple. Head to the Romulan colony on Lilith, provide aid in response to the string of tornadoes that had recently swept across the inhabited continents.

Dean knows it’s going to be a lot more complicated than that, and wishes for a moment that he and Cas hadn’t finished all the whiskey on the ship the night before.

As if summoned by his thoughts (and honestly he may well have been, the damned telepath) Cas’s face pokes around the door.

“Captain.” Cas’s face has a more prominent greenish tinge to it than usual, evidence that his indulgences the night before had left him at least somewhat worse for wear this morning. “Admiral Singer sent me notice that you would have new orders for us.”

“‘Course he did.” Bobby's fond of Castiel and had told Dean on a number of occasions that he was glad the Vulcan was there to keep him from doing 'damn fool things." Dean shakes his head and gestures at the chair across from him. “Take a seat, Cas. We got some plans to make.”

Cas sits.

“So we’re heading to Lilith. It’s a diplomatic and aid mission for the Romulan colony.” Dean glances at his first officer, who’s sitting even more stiffly than usual. “That gonna be a problem for you?”

“No, sir.” Castiel avoids Dean’s eyes and Dean sighs, leaning back in his chair.

Castiel is a Vulcan warrior before all else. He’s sworn allegiance to Starfleet, but that doesn’t change who he’s always been. Despite his struggles with his own race, the Romulans are the ancient sworn enemies of Vulcan and Castiel has some deep seated feelings about them, though he'd never admit it. Two hundred years of uneasy peace between them hasn’t changed any of that. Looking at his first officer, Dean remembers suddenly that Vulcans live more than twice as long as humans do. Two hundred years of peace could mean that Castiel’s grandparents fought in the last war, and that Cas's mother grew up hearing tales of Romulan evil. “You sure about that? Lotta history between your people and theirs.”

Castiel nods, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. “It will not be a problem, Captain.”

Castiel is the first Vulcan in Starfleet, and while sometimes Dean forgets that his first officer is blazing a trail through new territory, Castiel never does. And neither does anyone else.

“Okay then.” Dean pulls up the mission briefing Bobby sent along. "What do you know about Lilith?"

Castiel leans forward, eyes sparkling with what passes for enthusiasm in Vulcans. His passion, Dean knows, is people and their governments and customs. He's in his element reciting facts about a colony like Lilith.

"It's an M-class planet in the Lucifer system. The Romulans established a colony there 200 years ago, but the climate has changed drastically since, causing many of the crops to fail, and there's no evidence why. Additionally, there's been limited immigration and emigration during the life of the colony, and it's become particularly insular. There's been speculation that the Lilith government wants to establish itself as separate from the Romulan High Command."

Dean nods. "Yeah, and that's pretty much our problem. The Lilith government wants the Federation to come mediate the disputes. They're trying to keep their alliance with the Romulan homeworld, but that's not gonna happen with how they've been acting. We're picking up some augmented seeds at a starbase on the way that the Vulcan High Council, of all people, sent to help with the food shortage. But making sure everyone's happy and their pride's not hurt is gonna be the main thing." He shakes his head. "Remember when our lives were just shooting things and saving people from shit?"

There's that glimmer of amusement in Cas's eyes once more. "I remember you shooting things and me filing a lot of paperwork."

Dean laughs. "Yeah, but you love paperwork."

Castiel shakes his head, amusement in his eyes. "I do not, Captain." He pauses a moment, looking at Dean, then stands. "I am expected in Engineering. Charlie has some sort of anomalous reading she requires assistance in investigating. Would you like to play pool again tonight?" He gives Dean an appraising look. "Perhaps without the alcohol."

"Sounds good, Cas. 1900 hours? I'll bring burgers."

Castiel nods gravely and leaves the office.

\-----

It's a long day, and Dean is grateful for 23rd century medicine when he finally makes it down to Sam's sickbay in the early afternoon.

“Hey Sammy.” Dean hops up on a biobed as his brother looks up.

“Hey, Dean. Hangover cure?” Sam knows him too well. “Late night with Cas?” Yeah. Way too well.

Dean nods, wincing. “Couldn’t sleep. Cas came over.”

Sam shakes his head. “Just because you’re in charge now doesn’t mean you can do whatever you want, Dean.” He grabs a hypospray. “You’ve got to get yourself on a regular sleep cycle.”

“What are you, the captain or something?” asks Dean, smirking.

Sam grins at him, replying, “No, but when it comes to your health, I outrank you. And don’t forget it.” He injects the spray and Dean rolls his shoulders, sighing at the immediate effect. “And next time, Dean, come down right away. I’ve gotten three calls asking if I can come to you today because you’re so bitchy, and I don’t have time to make house calls.”

Dean salutes sloppily, hopping off the table. He turns to go, then pauses. “Hey Sammy?”

Sam looks up from where he’s already returned to his research. “Yeah, Dean?”

Dean fidgets. “I’m uh, I’m glad you’re here. As my doctor. Instead of someone else.”

Sam grins. “Yeah, dude, I love you too. You’re a pain in the ass but I’m glad I’m on your ship. Now go Captain or whatever it is you do.”

Dean nods uncomfortably, a warm feeling in his chest, and heads up to the bridge.

 


	3. Chapter 3

There’s a transmission alert beeping on his console as he slouches into his captain’s chair and he signals for Jo to put it through. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Castiel swivel to focus on the screen with a frown as a Vulcan in traditional robes pops up on the screen.

“Ambassador Zachariah,” Dean sits up straighter. “What can I do for you?”

The ambassador’s eyes flick to Castiel, then back to Dean. “Captain Winchester. Have you received the mission briefing for Lilith?”

Dean nods, taking a sort of perverse pleasure in being informal with the Vulcan. In his minds’ eye he can picture the exact expression on Cas’s face: a mix of annoyance, resignation, amusement and fondness at Dean’s refusal to play by the Vulcan rules of diplomacy, all hidden behind a bland, stoic mask. Dean would have enjoyed seeing it live, of course (putting that expression on Cas’s face is one of his favorite hobbies, after all) but he knows that turning away from the screen would be taking a step too far off the diplomatic path.

Zachariah gives what would be a frustrated sigh if he were human and continues. “We have the grain at the Abaddon starbase for transport to the colony. When should we expect you in the morning?”

Dean turns to Kevin. “How long to Abaddon at current speed, Mr. Tran?”

“Three hours at Warp 3, Captain.”

“There you go. See you in three hours, Ambassador. Winchester out.” He nods to Jo to close the channel and leans back in his chair. “Mr. Tran, anything interesting between here and Abaddon Station?”

Kevin smiles, punching in the coordinates. “Just a whole lot of space, Captain.”

Dean sighs, glancing at the engineer lurking on the bridge behind him. “Charlie, keep us entertained. What've people been up to  lately?”

She grins and starts a story of an overworked ensign on the _Expedition_ and a large pot of tomato soup as they speed towards Abaddon.

\-----

"–and what'd they say to that?"

"I was just looking for a game of chess, Captain. I, uh, didn't realize they expected payment even when I won--"

Dean’s in the middle of quizzing Kevin about his latest shore leave when the console beeps. 

"Sir, we're about to dock at Abbadon Station."

“Take us in, Mr. Tran. Cas, you’re with me.” Dean hits his communicator. “Sammy? Need you on the team heading onto the station. Meet us in the portside saucer docking port in ten.”

He slides out of his chair and heads for the turbolift, Castiel falling in behind him.

"Captain, perhaps I should lead the discussions on Abaddon," says Castiel quietly as the turbolift stops and Sam joins them. "I have worked with Ambassador Zachariah on previous missions. He can be-" Cas paused, choosing his words carefully– "difficult."

Sam snorts. "Tell us how you really feel, Cas." At Castiel's quizzical look, he sighs. "Never mind."

Dean throws Sam a smirk, then claps Castiel on the shoulder. "You're the boss today, then, Cas. I just wanna get in and out without getting trapped in another damn five hours of kneeling on a bench."

"It was a commendation ceremony, and you were the honored guest–" starts Cas. He pauses as the door chime interrupts him and he stops, stepping forward to the docking port door as it opens.

"Castiel." Zachariah's face is grim, even for a Vulcan's, as he raises his hand in salute. "Sarlah etek dvin-tor." _I come to serve._

Castiel's expression is no less stony as he raises a hand in reply. "Vu dvin dor etwel, Zachariah." _Your service honors us._

"Welcome to Abaddon, Castiel, Captain Winchester. Will your crew be spending the night here? We have limited quarters available."

Dean shakes his head, following Zachariah onto the main deck of the station. "We're just here to pick up the supplies and go. Thanks for the offer, though."

Zachariah nods and leads them into a small office off of the promenade. "Then let me give you the manifest and introduce you to our lead scientists. Ah." He gestures to the set of stools across from the desk. "Please, sit." He ushers in two Vulcans carrying data PADDs. "Inias, Uriel. You know Castiel, I believe." Both nod, and Castiel inclines his head in response. "This is Captain Dean Winchester of the Federation starship Impala and his Chief Medical Officer, Commander Sam Winchester." Sam raises a hand to salute Vulcan-style and Dean holds out a hand. Inias shakes it, and after a pause and a glance of barely-contained contempt Uriel does as well. 

"I am needed on the promenade. Uriel, I trust you will send for me if our guests require anything." Zachariah picks up a PADD and exits.

Uriel steps forward. “Castiel. It has been many years.”

Castiel nods. “It has. Is your family well?”

“They are. Rachel is expecting another child in three months.” Uriel glances at the PADD. “Here is a list of the supplies to be delivered. I will have them beamed to the cargo hold of your starship if that is amenable.”

Uriel hands the PADD to Castiel and leaves without glancing at Sam and Dean, who exchange eyerolls. 

Inias starts to follow, then pauses and turns to Castiel. “Castiel, my mother sends her greetings to you.”

“Return them for me, Inias. Hester was among the most efficient of my instructors.”

Inias nods. “I will.” He hesitates again. “The discussion at the academy is less vigorous now that you are no longer among us, Castiel. Many of us hope for your return to Vulcan.” He shoves his PADD at Sam and hurries after Uriel, leaving Castiel doing the closest thing to gaping that Dean’s ever seen.

“So... that was weird.” Sam’s voice is quiet. “What’s their deal?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I am unsure. Inias was acting–” he shakes his head, brow creased. “–odd.”

“And the other guy?” asked Dean. “Uriel?”

“Uriel was as he usually is. He is not fond of humans.” Castiel’s tone is wry.

“Yeah, no kidding. So you’re saying he’s usually like that?” Dean lets out a long breath. “Man, and I thought you were grouchy. You know these guys, then?”

Cas nods. “I attended the academy with Uriel for many years and he and I spent much time together in our youth. And Inias’s mother taught me philosophy. I later taught him as well.” He glances after Inias. “He was always very receptive to my instruction, even when it differed from the standard accepted models.”

Smirking, Dean pats Cas’s shoulder. “I think he might have a case of a hot-for-teacher there, Cas.” Before Castiel can respond Dean laughs. “Yeah, yeah, Vulcans don’t get crushes, I know.” He lets his hand drop. “We good to go?”

Sam nods, tucking the PADD in his bag. “This all looks good.” 

Dean stands. “Then let’s get back to the Impala. This station gives me the creeps.”

Castiel hesitates. "I would like to speak to Uriel further. He may have news of mutual friends on Vulcan."

"Yeah, sure." Dean glances at the time. "Just be on the ship before 1800 hours, all right? And check in with me when you get back." He heads out, Sam behind him.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean’s really, really done with today. Maybe it’s the two hours of sleep he got last night, conked out on the couch in his quarters with his head on Castiel’s shoulder after their fifth game of pool and his second glass of whiskey. Or maybe it’s dealing with freaking Zachariah and Uriel, who’d both looked at him like he isn’t worth the oxygen he takes up. Maybe it's Cas, who seemed almost eager to spend time on the station, away from Dean and from the crew. Or maybe it’s the fact that instead of an exploratory mission they’re getting sent on a goddamn diplomatic intervention.

Whatever it was that broke the camel’s back, he’s in a really shitty mood. He snaps at Sam, at Charlie, at Kevin, and when he stomps down to the mess to just get a slice of goddamn pie to get through the last hour of his shift he finds out from the kitchen worker on duty the last one was eaten moments ago.

He rounds on the terrified Ensign Rosen, who's clutching a plate covered in pastry crumbs, and–

He feels a heavy hand on his shoulder. "Hold your horses, Captain."

Dean turns and looks up into his chef's ridged face.

"Why don't you and I have a little chat, all right?"

Dean nods and Becky flees. He follows Benny to their usual table behind the curve of the wall.

Benny's been on the Impala for just over a year, after he'd jumped in to help Dean and Castiel in a firefight on an away mission gone wrong. The half-Klingon fights like a demon and cooks like a Michelin-starred chef, and he gets Dean in a way most don't.

The Captain does have a private dining room, but Dean's used it maybe twice in his five years as captain of the Impala. Most nights he takes his meal with Castiel or Sam in his quarters or here with Benny in the mess. New crew members are often surprised to find him there, eating the same food as they are and chatting with anyone who wanders up, but it's what Bobby did when Dean was an ensign on the _Sioux Falls_ and damned if he's going to do any differently on the _Impala_. 

"What's going on with you, brother?" asks Benny, setting a covered dish of pie in front of Dean. "You don't generally make the ensigns cry. Not on purpose, anyhow." He leans back and smiles when Dean picks up the fork and digs in, shaking his head.

"Just a rough day, Benny. I'll assign Ensign– Rosen, right? Ensign Rosen an extra free hour to make it up to her."

"Pie helping?"

Dean grins, feeling better already, and finishes off the slice. "Yeah. Thanks." He takes the package Benny thrusts in his hands as he stands. "What's this?"

"Your burgers. It's date night with your Vulcan, isn't it?"

Dean flushes. "It's not a date, Benny." He says quietly, glancing around to make sure no one heard. After finding that collection of anonymous stories about him, Sam, and Cas on the shipwide chat board he'd really rather keep rumors to a minimum. "Besides, he's a Vulcan. I don't even know if they date at all, or just– bud off, or something."

The chef lets out a loud laugh. "Good point." He stands. "Well, have fun doing– whatever it is that you two get up to late at night, Captain."

Dean shakes his head and stands as well. Benny claps him on the back as he leaves for his quarters.

\-----

Castiel is standing outside his door, absorbed in a PADD, and for once he doesn't seem to notice Dean as he rounds the corner.

Dean stops and leans against the wall, watching his first officer. It's not often that he gets a chance to observe Castiel without Cas observing him right back, and even rarer that he catches the Vulcan with his guard down as he seems to be now.

Dean has always thought that Castiel played the role of a proper Vulcan well, but he's gotten more and more convinced over the years that it's just that: a role. Dean's gotten enough glimpses of deep emotion over the time of their friendship to know that Cas somehow isn't quite like the other Vulcans.

Watching Cas now, Dean remembers sitting together on a bench outside Federation Headquarters, waiting for a decision on their punishment for disobeying the order to destroy a planet that housed a dangerous new weapon and instead choosing to spare the lives of the five thousand natives who hadn't finished evacuating. The weapon was destroyed, yes, but the plans had gotten transmitted to some other location.

Dean had told Castiel that he stood by his decision. They hadn't known each other very long at that point; in the context of Castiel's long life, they'd barely even met. But Cas had sat on that bench with him and admitted that he didn't always agree with the orders he was given, and that every once in a while, he wasn't sure if logic could provide the correct course of action.

Dean hadn't known how to respond.  They’d sat in silence for a few minutes before the judges called them back in to hear their punishment. Both had been given demerits, with trial transcripts placed in their permanent records, and then had been summarily dismissed. Castiel had taken it with his customary stoicism and had said his goodbyes, intending to return to his quarters. Dean had informed him in no uncertain terms that instead they were going to have a beer and that Cas was going to learn to play pool, and a tradition was born.

Castiel looks up and cocks his head to the side with a curious eyebrow raised and tucks away the PADD. "Captain?"

"Hey Cas." Dean pushes off the wall and types his code into the panel, smiling at his first officer. "Hope your day was better than mine."

Cas sits carefully on Dean’s couch, taking Benny’s package and opening it. The smell of unsynthesized beef fills the air as Dean strips off his uniform top and boots, flopping down beside Castiel in his undershirt and breathing in deeply. 

“Engineering reports look ok?” Dean asks as he reaches for a fry.

Castiel pulls the box away before Dean can snag one and neatly divides the food onto two plates. “Yes. Lt. Bradbury is very efficient. She has done an admirable job replacing Commander Devereaux."

Dean snorts, reaching warily for his plate and grinning when Castiel gestures for him to take it. "Admirable? Charlie's awesome, Cas. Frank saw conspiracies everywhere." He takes a huge bite, moaning a little around the mouthful of burger. "Not to mention the fact that he was really creepy." 

"Admiral Singer recommended him highly, Captain. And he was an excellent officer." Cas takes a fry, dipping it in the _forati_ sauce Dean keeps stocked for these occasions.

"Yeah, but Charlie is _awesome_. And she can take anyone on the ship in a fight, which is more than I can say for Frank. I hope he's not bothering Garth too badly. I always figured Frank belonged in Security, though." He eats a fry from Cas's plate. "I'd pay money to watch Garth try and discipline him. And seriously. I’ve been telling you for five years to just call me Dean. " He thinks for a moment. "Do you think Garth still has that creepy puppet?"

Castiel barely conceals a shudder. "I sincerely hope not." He pauses for a moment, no doubt trying not to remember their former Science Officer's felted friend Mr. Fizzles, and continues. "I also received a Security briefing from Commander Mills. We've had a few complaints about Lieutenant Ruby Masters.” He takes a large bite of the burger and his eyes drift closed. Dean chuckles; most Vulcans are vegetarians, but Cas indulges every once in a while in a burger and Dean loves to watch him enjoy the taste of red meat.

He focuses back in on Castiel's question and sighs. “Yeah, she’s a pain in the ass but she’s a fucking great engineer. I’ll talk to Charlie about her.” He finishes the burger and flops sideways on the couch, head next to Castiel’s thigh and feet up on the arm. He looks up at his first officer and shakes his head. “I dunno what Sam sees in her, Cas. Seriously.” He holds out a hand and Cas hands him a fry with what Dean likes to think is a fond look. “Thanks for last night, though. You up for another game once we finish off the fries?”

Cas nods, a gleam in his eye, and hands Dean another fry. “This time you will not win.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dean tries not to think about how often he wakes up on the couch with his first officer. He’d really rather not think too much about the fact that sometimes it seems like he can only get a good night’s sleep if Castiel is within arm’s reach.

This morning he’s curled up, head in Cas’s lap, arms around his waist and face pressed to the Vulcan’s stomach. When he turns his head to struggle upright, he finds one of Cas’s hands is pressed to his shoulder while the other is tangled in his hair. Cas is fast asleep, head tilted back against the couch, mouth open, and (to Dean’s great amusement) he's snoring slightly. Dean knows Vulcans don’t need sleep the way humans do; the fact that Castiel fell asleep here last night means either he’s not been sleeping well either or– well, Dean’s not sure what else it could mean.

He sits up carefully, trying not to wake Cas as stretches and rolls his neck, but no luck. Cas groans slightly, shifting, and opens his eyes. 

“Good morning, Captain.” His voice is lower than usual, husky with sleep.

“Hey, Cas. Sorry to fall asleep on you again, buddy.” He watches Castiel shake his head and drag a hand across his hair. It doesn’t help much; Castiel’s normally pristine hair is rumpled and mussed.

“It’s all right.” Cas glances at the clock. “We both need to be on the bridge in thirteen minutes, however. May I use your sink?”

“Dude, of course. I’m gonna hop in the shower. Do whatever you need to do.”

It’s not the first time this has happened, either–the next ten minutes are a well-practiced ballet. Dean showers and grabs a new uniform top while Cas synthesizes one for himself and tries to fix his hair in the mirror.

Dean laughs at Cas’s attempts and wonders how the Vulcan manages to look so put together usually when he can’t even make his hair lay flat. He suspects he has some sort of special Vulcan hair product or device in his quarters. Vulcans are full of secrets, so who the hell knows. Dean wordlessly grabs his hair gel and squirts some into Cas’s hair, smoothing down the flyaway bits and secretly wishing Castiel would leave it messy some time. Cas nods his thanks and hands Dean his communicator and they’re good to go.

They make it to the bridge with seconds to spare. Dean drops into the chair with a thud, grinning at Kevin in front of him, and Castiel perches on his stool and swivels to face his console.

“Mr. Tran, how far from Lilith are we?”

“Five hours at our current speed if we don’t stop, Sir.” Kevin replies. 

Castiel leans over from behind Dean and lowers his voice. “Captain, we’ll be passing within two light years of Azazel Station. Would you like to stop and pay your respects?”

Dean rubs a hand over his face, sighing. “Don’t think we have time.” He blinks a few times, hating the moisture he feels there, and catches Castiel’s wrist as he turns to go back to his station. “Thanks, though, Cas. For thinking of it.” 

Castiel nods, looking at Dean’s hand on his wrist with a strange expression on his face. Dean pulls away self-consciously, and Castiel stays where he is for a moment, searching Dean’s face. Dean’s not sure if he finds whatever it is he’s looking for, but he blinks and turns back to his console and the moment is lost. 

Dean’s not sure if he’s disappointed or not about not stopping at Azazel. He doesn’t make it out this way often and that might be on purpose. His mother’s death is something he never really got over, and he finds it hard enough just to discuss it. If he’s going to visit her memorial, it’s not gonna be when he’s on a time-sensitive mission with his whole crew watching.

 _Maybe on the way back_ , he thinks. Maybe he’ll take some shore leave, see if Sam wants to join him. They can visit Mary's memorial together for the first time in fifteen years.

He knows Sam visits sometimes, and he knows Sam would like to talk about Mary and that he’s desperate for any information or connection to their mother. But Dean’s few memories of Mary are things he keeps close, buried deep, and part of him thinks that if he shares them, they’ll lose their meaning to him forever. At the memorial, though, there’s more than just information about the accident. There are video files of Mary and written accounts of her life and messages from friends and loved ones. It’s a peek into a life that Dean only got to be part of briefly and Sam almost not at all.

He’s caught up in memory and sadness and is startled by a hand on his shoulder. He glances up into Castiel’s face, looking down at him.

“Captain,” Castiel murmurs quietly, “I’m sorry if suggesting it has upset you.”

Dean pats his hand. “S’okay, Cas. I think I’m gonna stop on the way back." He turns to look at his first officer. "You, uh, you want to join me? I know you knew her, too.” Sometimes Dean forgets that Cas taught Mary and John at the academy years ago. There was a picture from her funeral that Sam had found in one of his obsessive-research-about-Mary phases that showed Castiel standing at Mary’s grave, fingers resting on the stone. He wishes he could remember seeing Cas there, but Dean’s only memory of the funeral is of John standing in the rain for hours while he clutched Sam in his arms, until Bobby came and brought them all into his home.

Cas looks surprised, examining Dean’s face carefully, and Dean’s not sure if he’s surprised at the offer, or at the fact that Dean remembered his connection to Mary. “If it wouldn’t interfere with your visit, I would like to pay my respects. Mary Winchester was one of my most promising students.” He looks away, swallowing, and Dean could swear he sees sadness in the Vulcan's eyes.

Dean nods, not trusting his voice, and pulls away from Castiel’s hand, turning to face the viewscreen. He hears Castiel return to his station and sit. 

Sometimes Dean wonders if Castiel was on Alastair for a reason when their accident happened: whether he was waiting and watching over the son of his favored student. Maybe he'd regretted not being able to protect Mary, and thought watching Dean would serve as some sort of penance. Whatever the reason, Dean knows he would have died had it not been for Castiel's actions.

He glances back at the Vulcan, who's manipulating data on his touchscreen faster than any human could, and smiles. Cas still has a chunk of hair in the back that's fighting the gel and curling behind his ear.

He picks up the PADD with the data on Lilith’s political situation and tries to focus on the task at hand. _I fucking hate diplomatic missions_ , he thinks, scanning through the list of key players in the settlement.


	6. Chapter 6

Lilith’s a class M planet, but just barely. It’s hot, and dry, and the over-salinated ocean has twenty foot waves that crash on all the coasts. The colony is mainly spread across the southernmost continent, the largest and most fertile, because it’s the only land not straddling the equator. But it’s still not a welcoming place, even near the pole: tornadoes sweep its surface during what passes for winter, and the long, hot summer is punctuated by dust storms that cover miles at a time, blocking transporters and wreaking havoc on communications.

The shuttle takes them down to a settlement that's on the edge of a wide swath of agricultural land. Dean sees it laid out before them as he flies the _Bonham_ down to the surface. The houses are battered, especially in one quadrant of the city where Dean assumes the last tornado hit.

But the fields seem full; Dean can see people walking through them with bags filled with produce and trucks hauling loads into silos on the outskirts of the city.

“The vegetables grown here filled most of the food needs of the population until recently,” Cas says quietly from the seat beside Dean. “But the population growth coupled with the climate change has meant that the current amount of agriculturally viable land can’t support the people.”

Dean nods. “That’s why we’ve got the augmented seeds, right?”

Cas sighs. “Yes. But these are only a stopgap measure; they’ll increase production, but unless the climate patterns change dramatically in the next few years they’ll face the same problem again in twenty years.”

They touch down on the landing pad in the city center and Dean reaches for the door release button but pauses when Castiel lays a hand on his arm.

“Dean.” Castiel’s eyes are worried, brow furrowed more than Dean’s seen in years. His voice is pitched for Dean’s ears only as the away team prepares their gear for the mission. “This is a–a delicate situation. We don’t know the Romulans’ true motives here.”

Dean gives Castiel a quick nod and stands. He's taking Cas's advice and being cautious, of course he is, but there's a low simmering of worry in the pit of his stomach. In five years of working together as Captain and first officer, this is the first time they've had to deal with the Vulcans' ancient enemies. Things are better between the Romulans and the Vulcans--or that's what the news reports would like people to believe, anyway--but despite the Vulcan claim that they avoid anger and emotion Dean has learned differently in half a decade of dealing with Cas and his people. Their emotions aren't on the surface, not the way humans’ are, no. They don't cry, they don't yell, they don't rage and sob and explode the way humans do. 

No, Vulcans run deep. And they run cold.

When Dean recovered from his accident, he'd been told that the terrorist cell that had captured him, his classmates, and Castiel on Alastair wouldn't be a problem for the Federation again. At the time, he hadn't worried about what that meant. He'd been happy to be free, to be alive, and to be off that fucking planet, although the other survivor of the incident was nowhere to be found.

It wasn't till later, when he'd known Cas for a while, that he'd put the pieces together. Castiel had vanished as soon as his injuries were healed, a week before Dean had regained consciousness. When he returned nearly a month later, he was closemouthed about what had happened, but when Dean finally got the nerve to fly back out to the system where they'd been held, the site was nearly obliterated.

So do Vulcans feel anger? Dean's gonna go with yes.

He's asked Castiel about Alastair exactly once. The cold look he'd gotten in reply was enough to make him decide to hold off on asking again for at least the next decade.

So while he trusts Cas, and trusts his judgement in almost everything, he's just– not sure about this one.

The shuttle doors slide open. Dean heads toward the greeting party at the end of the ramp, feeling like a little bit of a coward for his relief at not having to finish the conversation.

Castiel follows, staying slightly behind Dean but keeping close. His Chief of Security Jody Mills, along with Ensigns Rosen and Fitzgerald, fall in behind them, the two ensigns watching carefully. It's Nancy Fitzgerald's first mission, and for her sake Dean hopes it's an easy one.

A short, round Romulan steps forward, hand raised in greeting. "Jolan tru." _May your day have peace._ "Captain Winchester, a pleasure."

"Subcommander Crowley." Dean holds out a hand. Crowley stares at it for a moment then takes it, smirking.

"Welcome to to Lilith. As you can see," he sweeps an arm out, gesturing to the dusty expanse and ramshackled houses surrounding the landing pad, "we have _so much_ to see and do here."

Castiel, ignoring the sarcasm, speaks up from behind Dean. "Subcommander Crowley, we need to schedule a meeting with all the leaders of the settlement."

"Ah, yes. The mediation. How lovely." Crowley waves forward an assistant. "Be a dear and help the Captain's Vulcan plan a meeting, please."

Dean feels Castiel bristling, and gives him a look that says _shut up, Cas_. He turns back to Crowley. "We also have grain to distribute to help with the shortages. Ensign Fitzgerald, tell him about the grain."

Nancy steps forward, swallowing. She's pale, obviously nervous, but Dean knows she knows her stuff. She's Garth's cousin after all, and that's a family who never stops surprising him. "It's biologically enhanced, sir. It'll grow twice as fast and produce three times as much grain per plant each season. It also requires sixty percent less water to grow." She hands Crowley a PADD. He takes it and thumbs through the data.

"Impressive." He hands the PADD to another of his assistants and steps closer to Dean. "And I assume all this is being reported to the High Command?"

Dean tries not to sigh out loud. He really, really hates dealing with this sort of political situation. “The information will be public record, Subcommander, as usual with aid missions.” He glances around, noting the high fences in the distance and the lack of civilian activity in the streets. “Lemme guess. The situation’s gotten more tense since the last report to Starfleet.”

Crowley smirks. “You could say that. We’ve had a... bit of a falling out, I suppose. The home world and I just don’t seem to see eye to eye anymore.”

Dean decides not to ask any further and hands Crowley a device. “Put this where you want the grain sent and activate it and we’ll beam it down.” He holds out a hand again. “We’re gonna head back up to the Impala. Good to meet you, Subcommander.” Crowley shakes his hand, and Dean heads back to the shuttle, trying to resist the urge to wipe his hand on his uniform. Something about Crowley just gives him the creeps.

Castiel follows him, Becky and Nancy trailing after him. Jody takes the rear, eyes on Crowley as the shuttle door slides shut.

“Sir,” Jody’s at Dean’s shoulder as soon as the Starfleet delegation is alone. “I don’t trust him.”

Dean snorts as he plots their course. "Yeah. No shit. Dude's slimy as hell." He glances at his first officer, who's buckling in beside him. "Cas? Any thoughts?"

Castiel shakes his head, gazing out the windshield at the curve of the planet as the shuttle blasts towards the Impala. "I believe he has other motives, Captain. But I'm not sure what they could be." 

"Yeah." Dean leans back, course set. "Jody, recommendations?"

The security chief glanced up from her PADD. "Writing them out now, Sir."

Dean nods. "Good call."

When they've docked and disembarked, Dean starts to turn towards his quarters for a well deserved break after another crappy afternoon when he's stopped by a hand on his arm. He turns to face Commander Mills, whose face is worried.

"Captain, can I talk with you for a minute? Alone?" Dean trusts Jody with his life; she and Bobby are long time– honestly, Dean's not sure what they are. They fight constantly: they have since the academy when she was a first year and he almost ready to graduate. They met in an argument in a class, or so Dean's heard. She called him an old drunk, he called her an interfering busybody, and a lifetime of antagonistic friendship was born.

Dean had also walked into Bobby's apartment in San Francisco at three in the morning to find Jody making pancakes in her underwear, so he suspects there's more to it than just the arguments. Regardless, he's known her a long time and her worries are worth missing his nap.

"Yeah, sure. But can we talk in my quarters? I really need a snack after that."

She snorts quietly. "You always need a snack, Captain."

He quizzes her on her staff as they walk, knowing she won't bring up whatever it is she's worried about until they're in a secure spot.

She laughs when he asks about Ensign Rosen, who's spent most of the mission staring at him and at Cas. "She's a strange one. When she broke her wrist last month on the mission to Orion I think she was more excited to be going to see your brother than upset about the wrist."

Dean unlocks his door and ushers Jody inside, letting the door swoosh shut behind them. "So what's up, Jody? You've been edgy since we docked."

She nods grimly. "I got word from Charlie that an unauthorized transmission was sent from Engineering right before we reached Abaddon Station.”

“Why are we just finding out about this now?”

Jody sighs. “It was sent from the upgraded Warp Core maintenance panel Charlie’s been working on. It wasn’t connected up to the full system yet, but seems like someone hooked into it to send their message and then disconnected. The fact that it’s not part of our official system, plus the fact that it’s so close to all the core’s radiation, means it wasn’t detected in the regular comm sweeps.”

“So how’d we find it, then?”

“Charlie. She’s been working with Ensign Rosen- yeah, I know, she’s kind of eccentric, but she’s got dual degrees in Engineering and Security- and they’ve figured out a new way to run the security sweeps. It’s catching all sort of things.”

Dean leans forward. He’s worried about the coded message, he is, but after the day he’s had, what he really needs is some gossip. “Yeah?”

Jody snorts. “I knew that’d perk you up, kid.” She leans back in her seat, grinning. “For instance, did you know that Kevin’s got a girlfriend he sneaks messages to through our Starfleet briefings? Nothing that’d be a problem for the ship, just-” at this she can’t hold back her smirk- “just _study hints_.”

Dean laughs. “That kid needs to get laid. What else you got?”

“Ellen’s been sending Jo messages every few days- seems our Comm girl didn’t tell Ellen she’d signed up for a deep space mission.”

Dean whistles. “Yeah. I can see how Ellen’d react to that.” He shakes his head. “What the hell was Jo thinking?”

“Not sure. But she’s always had a wild streak, that one. Ever since Bill died.”

Dean grimaces. Bill Harvelle was a sore subject. Until Dean was in his teens, Ellen and Bill and Jo had been the closest thing to cousins Sam and Dean had had. Bill had been John's first officer and they'd lived with Ellen and Jo when Bobby couldn't take them. It’d been while serving on the Impala that Bill had died, almost twenty years ago, when John had been in command. It was an accident that hadn’t ever really been fully explained, and it wasn’t until after John’s death twelve years ago that they reconnected with Ellen and Jo.

"Yeah." He shakes his head wryly. "I knew I should have checked with Ellen when Jo requested the transfer."

"She's 24, Dean. You're not her parent." Jody's giving him a look that's halfway between affectionate and exasperated. "Anyway, the message."

Dean turns grim. "Yeah. What've you gotten on it? Anything?"

"Just the file size and where it originated. Looks like a video message with a data file. It's coded using a system we've never seen before. We're trying the security logs for the night it was sent but they've been corrupted somehow."

"Great. That's just great. Keep on it. Don't bring anyone else into the loop for now, though. Anyone could have sent it. That terminal's not in a restricted area, is it?"

Jody sighs. "Well it is _now._ "

Dean snorts. "Keep me updated, Jody. Thanks."


	7. Chapter 7

Dean's sitting in the Captain's Chair on the bridge a few hours later, looking through reports from his senior staff, when the call comes through.

"Captain, there's a transmission from Admiral Singer on a secure personal channel," reports Jo. "Want me to patch it through to your ready room?"

Dean nods, standing and stretching. "Yeah." He walks towards the door, pausing next to Jo to say quietly, "and I just found out you signed up without telling your mom– we will definitely be chatting about that sometime soon, Joanna Beth."

She pales a little, but gives a cocky grin. "You afraid of my mother, Captain?"

Dean gives her a dark look in return and continues to his office, making sure the door shuts firmly behind him as he sits at his terminal and flicks it on.

Admiral Singer's whiskery face appears on the screen. He doesn't look happy.

"Dean? I ain't got much time."

Dean notices Bobby's not wearing his Starfleet uniform: instead, he's in casual clothes and has a stuffed backpack on the table behind him. He's calling from his apartment, not his office, and Dean's already worried.

"What's going on, Bobby?"

"I'm not sure, but someone's coming after me. I dodged 'em in headquarters, but my address is on file. Heading out to a safe house now." He glances behind him at the door and leans closer. "Dean, I don't know what's going on, but be careful. Word is that there's a traitor on your ship, and command's convinced it's that Vulcan of yours."

Dean clenches his fists. "Whatever's going on, it's not Cas. I can promise you that."

Bobby sighs, pulling a cap over his head. "Look, I don't want it to be true either. But we just don't know." He glances at his watch. "I gotta head out. I’m gonna get in touch with a friend of mine in your area and see what he can do. You be careful now, boy, all right? Keep that ship of yours flying and you and your brother in one piece."

Dean nods. "Yes sir."

"Oh, I almost forgot. They're sending Gordon Walker your way in the Mustang. I'm sending you some files I've got on him, because they say it's to help you out but something's not right. So watch your back. And don't be an idiot, boy. You've got a good head on your shoulders, and a good crew up there. We'll get this figured out." He gives Dean a parting nod as the data transfer completes and the screen goes black.

 _"Shit."_ Dean's about to call for Sam when another call comes through to his terminal. This time it's actually from command, and the stern face of Deputy Director Kubrick appears.

Dean has to take a deep breath to keep from tearing out his hair. Kubrick's old-line Starfleet, part of the old boy's club circles that John had traveled in when Dean and Sam were kids. He and John had worked together a few times, but Dean's always been of the opinion that he's a paranoid creep.

"Captain Winchester. I hear you have a bit of a security problem." Kubrick watches him closely, watery eyes focused on Dean's. As the Deputy Director of Intelligence for Starfleet, Dean knows leaks like the one in Engineering fall into Kubrick's domain, but that doesn't mean Dean has to like it. He keeps his face blank as he replies.

"We're working on it."

"That's not good enough, Captain. I'm sending Gordon Walker to assist you. He's well trained in counterespionage and will be supervising the Impala for the duration of the investigation."

Dean grits his teeth. "Director, we don't need supervision. We got the best damn team in the alpha quadrant. We're getting it figured out ourselves."

Kubrick's face is stern as he leans in towards the camera. "You obviously do need it, or there wouldn't have been a leak in the first place. You'll work with Admiral Walker, or you may not be in charge of that pretty little ship of your father's much longer."

He terminates the call and Dean drops his face into his hands. _Fuck._

\-----

Admiral Walker arrives with an entourage a few hours later. It's well into second shift, 2100 hours, and Dean's pretty sure the admiral did it on purpose to keep them off balance. Judging by the files Bobby sent, that's Walker's M.O.

The Mustang's a beautiful ship, older than most by Federation standards, but it's been retrofitted and rebuilt by experts, just like the Impala. Dean's grudging respect for Gordon goes up a few notches despite himself when he sees the pristine condition of the Admiral's classic ship.

He beams aboard without so much as a hail, directly to the bridge, and holds a hand out for Dean to shake.

"Captain Winchester. Heard a lot about you. Gordon Walker."

Dean takes his hand firmly, shaking it and trying to keep the unease out of his face. "Admiral. Welcome to the Impala. Let me know what you need from me." He gestures Cas forward. "My first officer, Commander Castiel." 

Cas steps forward, holding out his hand in the Terran fashion. After a pause, Gordon takes it, gripping quickly before dropping it and stepping back.

Dean exchanges a glance with Sam, who's just stepped out of the turbolift. 

 _Weird?_ Asks Sam with an eyebrow. 

 _Definitely weird_ , replies Dean with a quirk of his lips.

"I've brought my best team to start analyzing data. I'd prefer if your crew is minimally involved in the process. Everyone on board is a suspect. You have no new people on board since the transmission was sent, is that right? And no one has left."

Dean shakes his head. "Our crew roster hasn't changed in three months, not since Jo here joined us."

"Good. That'll simplify things."

Dean indicates Jody, who's in her usual place behind the Captain's Chair. "Commander Mills will be assisting you in your investigation." She steps down and shakes his hand, and Dean notes the handshake is both longer and warmer than it'd been with Cas. Is that a thing about Vulcans? Or about Cas? he wonders as Jody leads Gordon to the lift. His officers follow, flanking him in the elevator as the doors swish closed.

Walker's team show no signs of pausing their investigation as the night continues, and each crew member is called in for an interview in turn. They've made it through about a quarter of the Impala's complement of 287 when an urgent message comes in for Dean from Starfleet. Admiral Walker follows him into his ready room where he's forwarded the message and Dean frowns when Gordon locks the door behind them, keeping Cas from joining in, but says nothing.

It's Kubrick again, because today is just not Dean's day. He nods to both of them. "Admiral, Captain, we've got a problem."

Dean scrubs a hand over his face, willing himself more awake. It's Gordon who answers. "What's going on, Kubrick?"

"It looks like our traitor's been busy. I just got a call from Subcommander Crowley. The grain you delivered? Been infected with a fungus that's spread to all their crops on the mainland. It's killed everything, and the grain is destroyed. I hope you're ready for war, Captain, because that's what someone on your ship is trying to start."


	8. Chapter 8

Castiel is one of the last to be interviewed and Dean can tell by the manic look in Gordon's eyes when he calls him in that it’s not gonna be good. He catches Cas's wrist as he passes and Cas raises an eyebrow at him.

"Be careful, Cas. Just– be careful." He tries to communicate with a glance all his worries about Gordon's prejudices and feelings towards Cas, but he's not sure if he's successful.

Cas nods, lingering for a moment, until Dean releases the wrist he's still holding and watches him make his way to Gordon and the turbolift.

He doesn't come back out when the next person is called in, or the next, and the bridge crew is beginning to exchange worried chances by the time two hours have passed. It's then that Dean's communicator starts to beep quietly, the sound bringing back images of John drilling him and Sam as kids. It's a message from Sam in Morse code: ...---... and his heart drops. It's an SOS signal. He casually slips his communicator down between his leg and the armrest, typing back a quick 'what' in the same code.

'Have Cas in custody. Deck 5. Get there now.'

Dean stands carefully, eye on the security officer Gordon had posted on the bridge in Jody's place. "Be right back." He heads into the turbolift casually, letting the door slide shut behind him, and as soon as he's moving he lets himself panic for just a moment, before Bobby's voice rings in his head. _Calm down, boy. You got this. It's gonna be fine._

He takes a deep breath and exits the lift at a sprint.

As Dean turns the corner and skids to a halt he hears the unmistakable sound of a tranquilizer dart firing and sees his first officer slump to the ground.

"Cas!" He yells, brushing past the officers from the Mustang and running to his side. He crouches beside Castiel, feeling for a pulse and letting out a deep breath of relief when it's strong beneath his fingers. He turns to face Admiral Walker, eyes glittering with rage. "What are you doing, sir? Is there a reason you've shot my first officer?"

Gordon's face is just as hard. "He's a traitor, Dean. We have evidence he sent messages to the Vulcans on Abbadon and was likely responsible for the sabotage of the supplies to the Romulans as well. We're sending him off the ship to deal with after the situation has been resolved." He narrows his eyes. "Step aside. That's an order."

"He might have sent a message to Abbadon, but he's a Vulcan! He's got friends on that station! And he sure as hell didn't sabotage anything!"

"Our technicians and security officers say otherwise. I repeat, step aside!"

The security officers are inching towards him, and Dean moves more in front of his unconscious friend, keeping a hand on his wrist. 

"Dammit, it's not Cas! I won't let you do this!"

"Captain Winchester, if you continue to side with this– this _alien traitor_ against your own kind, you aren't gonna like the consequences!"

Dean's jaw clenches and he tightens his grip on Castiel's arm, keeping the Vulcan behind him. "Cas isn't behind this, Gordon! You know he's not! This is a set up and you're playing right into it!"

"That's it. I am relieving you of your command, Captain Winchester. Stand down, or you're going to end up exiled with your green-blooded friend."

Dean doesn't move, staring Gordon down from his crouched position at Castiel's side as he frantically sifts through possible ways out in his mind. Nothing comes to him, and he fights as the security from the Mustang grab him and toss him into the escape pod, hauling Cas's unconscious body on top of him and slamming the restraints shut.

Admiral Walker's face is almost blank, but Dean can see something flickering in his eyes, and as the pod door clicks shut he swears he sees a grin spreading across the Admiral's lips.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean has to admit that this time he’s a little worried.

He surveys the landing site. It’s a primarily tundra planet, luckily with very little large wildlife and abundant edible tubers with flammable stalks, and they’ve hit in a rocky outcropping filled with nooks and crannies and, if they’re very, very lucky, caves. But when are they ever lucky?

He turns back to Castiel, who’s stirring finally, and crouches down beside him as his eyes open and he squints into the sun. His eyes are glazed for a moment, but they focus quickly. “Dean.” 

He must be really out of it, thinks Dean. He tries not to think about the thrill hearing Cas use his name gives him.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean reaches out and arm and Cas grabs his wrist, pulling himself upright. “You feeling okay?”

Castiel shakes his head to clear it, stumbling against Dean. “Yes. I believe I may have been sedated, Captain.”

“Yeah, the douchebag from the Mustang got you with a hypospray, around the same time he shoved me in the pod- whoa!” He braces Cas with a hand on his shoulder as the other man stumbles. “You sure you’re good, Cas?”

Castiel doesn’t answer, focusing instead on staying upright.

Dean looks up and curses. “Sun’s going down. It’s about to get a lot colder out here.” He glances toward the rocks. “What do you think, Cas? Caves or pod?”

Finally getting his feet under himself, Castiel glances towards the rocks, then towards the pod, which, on closer inspection, has a large crack developing across the windshield. “Cave. But we should recover some supplies from the pod first.” He lurches forward and Dean catches him, wrapping an arm around his waist. 

“You’re not doing anything but sitting down till you’re recovered, buddy. Let’s find you a nice cave, then I’ll come back out for the stuff in the pod.”

Dean tries to ignore how warm Castiel’s body is against his as they stumble into the outcropping and into a small opening. He sets the Vulcan down near the entrance and draws his phaser and flashlight, checking the corners for other inhabitants. “Looks like nobody’s used this for a while.” When he turns back to Cas, the other man is standing, leaning heavily on the wall and making his way towards Dean.

Dean shakes his head. Fucking stubborn Vulcan. He grabs Cas’s arm and helps him sit against the wall in the back of the cave. “I’ll be right back. Yell if you need anything, all right?”

Cas doesn’t respond, instead leaning his head back against the wall and crossing his legs into his meditation pose.

Dean rolls his eyes and heads back out to the pod.

There’s the standard emergency kit in there, with one of those crinkly silver blankets, refillable tins of water with a basic purifier, some rations and a spare communicator. There’s also one of Dean’s special emergency kits, which he had installed in all the Impala’s pods: currency in twelve different planets’ small denominations, a battery with enough charge to run his phaser for a few hundred extra shots, two flares, a compass, a small but wickedly sharp knife, a dermal regenerator, ten yards of microfiber rope and a tiny bottle of whiskey.

He grabs both bags, slinging one over each shoulder, and returns to the cave. Castiel hasn't moved. He's still sitting with his eyes shut against the wall of the cave. Dean grabs a few loose rocks and sets them in the center, adjusting his phaser to the lowest setting and carefully heating them until they give off a pleasant glow and warmth. The cave’s not warm now, not by any stretch, but it helps a little.

Dean starts unpacking the bags, pulling out the blanket, a pair of ration meals and two tins. He packs most of the stuff tightly in one bag, stashing the knife and currency in his belt and the compass in his pocket.

Vulcans aren't the most lively of people even on a good day, but even so, Dean's getting a little worried. Castiel is paler than usual, his lips and the pointed tips of his ears almost white. Dean turns colder than the air was already making him when he remembers that Castiel's biology is made for a desert planet, and that his body runs five degrees or so hotter than a human's on average. He hurries to unfold the blanket and tuck it around his friend's shoulders.

Castiel cracks an eye open at that, and takes the packet of freeze-dried whatever that Dean hands him. Settling back against the cave wall, he looks up at Dean. "Captain."

Dean tucks the bags into a corner and slumps beside him, suddenly exhausted. "Yeah, Cas?"

"I did not betray you to Zachariah." His eyes bore into Dean's. "I wouldn't do that."

Dean gives him a weary smile. "I know that, Cas. I trust you." He closes his eyes and wraps his hands around his knees, trying to conserve some heat. “It’s the rest of those dicks I don’t trust.” He sighs. “Somebody on the Impala’s been sending information out, though. We gotta figure out who it is.”

Warmth drapes around his shoulders and he starts, opening his eyes. Castiel has moved closer and lifted the blanket until it wraps around them both. They’re pressed shoulder-to shoulder between the cave wall and the warm stones and the anxiety that’s been building in Dean all day is finally soothed a little. 

“Thanks, Cas.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the increased warmth. Dean’s finally warmed up enough to shiver, though, and he does, violently, until Cas wraps an arm around his shoulders firmly and tucks him against his side. It’s been a long day, and Cas’s warmth is familiar and Dean finds himself dozing. The last thing he remembers before falling asleep is Cas’s face turned towards him, watching him closely.


	10. Chapter 10

When he wakes, it's Cas who is sleeping, curled up like a cat against Dean's side. Dean stares down at him, the early hour and the warmth of the man beside him making him contemplative.

He feels like he's known about Cas forever; Mary had spoke of him often when Dean was young, though not by name. She'd just told him about the Vulcans who were helping them learn about the universe, who've brought them into the new age of space travel. John had snorted at this, shaking his head. He subscribed more to Admiral Archer's point of view, suspicious of the Vulcans still, even after nearly a hundred years of alliance.

And Dean'd be the first one to admit that he didn't warm up to Cas at first. When he arrived at the academy, fresh from years spent on starships with John and in backwoods bars with Bobby and Jody and Ellen, he was prepared to hate Castiel immediately. 

But their paths didn't cross much at the academy; Dean can admit now, years later, that that was on purpose. If Cas was the Vulcan who was supposed to be watching over Mary, where the Hell was he when her station was sabotaged?

He changed his mind eventually, though, after working with Castiel on the Sioux Falls, and the mission gone wrong with the weapon, and even though at the time he hadn't wanted to admit it, Cas's actions on Alastair (and afterwards) had done a lot to earn him Dean's trust.

Dean thinks a lot about that, actually. He thinks about how he'd always been cold to Cas, avoiding him at the academy, and how they had barely known each other. How despite that, Cas had come back for him even though the chance he was alive was minimal in that massive fire despite the risk of missing his chance to contact their potential rescuers.

And here they are, eight years later, in a cave on an uninhabitable planet trying to reclaim a ship and save two civilizations from near-inevitable war. 

Someday, Dean would like to take a nice, long vacation, just him and Cas, maybe on one of those reserve planets with lakes and cabins and not a mission in sight.

He snorts. _With our luck, there'd be tribbles in the damn rafters_.

Castiel shifts against him, stretching, and blinks his eyes open. He stares at Dean for a moment, then sits up and runs a hand through his hair. "Any word from the Impala, Captain?"

Dean shakes his head, rising to glance towards the mouth of the cave. "Nothing yet. I bet Sam's working out a plan on how to get us back right now, though."

"I didn't send that message. They showed me the evidence– my codes were used and the readings showed a Vulcan's bio signs, but I was not in engineering at the time the message was sent."

"Well then it should be easy to clear up, right? Just gotta find the scans showing where you actually were then. On the bridge?"

Cas is already shaking his head before Dean's finished talking. "I was in my quarters, preparing for my shift. There was no data in the system to corroborate that, however."

Dean runs a hand through his hair and rubs his palms into his eyes until he sees stars. "Shit."

Cas's mouth quirks up in a very Vulcan smile. "Indeed."

Kneeling, Dean shakes his head. "Well, we can't solve this before breakfast, that's for damn sure." He digs in the bag at their feet. "Chicken and rice, barley stew or, oh man, Roasted Torg? Really, Benny?" He shakes his head.

Cas doesn't look any more thrilled at the choice, but he reaches for the barley stew and breaks the seal, heating the contents quickly. He offers the packet to Dean who shakes his head and shudders. He's looking through the bag hopefully and with a triumphant noise pulls out a final packet.

Castiel leans forward to glance at the label and frowns. "Apple pie, Dean? That doesn't have the protein you'll need in this cold."

Dean sighs and picks up the chicken packet, cracking the seal and opening the bag. He sniffs it warily and shudders, but pulls out the attached fork. "It's my reward for making it through this thing, Cas." He takes a bite and grimaces. "That is nasty." He continues to eat it, shuddering at each bite as Cas looks on fondly, starting on his own meal.

“Captain–” he starts, setting his fork down carefully. “Dean. I– I just wanted to thank you.”

Dean looks up from his meal, confused. “For what, Cas?” 

Cas stares into the distance over Dean’s shoulder, avoiding his gaze. “For believing me. For trusting that I am not the one sabotaging the mission or conspiring against you.” His face is grim. “You had every reason to believe it was me.”

“No, I didn’t.”

Cas’s gaze shifts, eyes meeting Dean’s. “What do you mean?”

“I trust you, Cas. You’ve never let me down.” He gives a sad smile. “You’re probably the only person I can say that about, too.”

Cas’s eyes soften as Dean speaks and his hand twitches on his thigh before he laces his fingers together in his lap. “Dean–”

They both jump to their feet, phasers drawn and food forgotten when a crash rings through the cave from just outside.

Dean points at Cas and gestures backwards, then at himself and points at the entrance to the cave. Cas nods and pulls out a tricorder, adjusting the scanners to their widest. He leans into Dean’s space and whispers, “Four humans just outside: three male, one female. They’re armed and exiting a Federation shuttle.”

Dean nods his acknowledgement and steps towards the entrance, raising his phaser and preparing to dodge into the gap in the rocks when a familiar voice rings out.

“Dean? You in there, boy?”

It’s Bobby and Dean’s heart rate instantly starts to slow. He ducks around the wall, still holding the phaser, and grins when he sees Bobby, Sam and Jody with an unfamiliar man in civilian clothes behind them, all standing around his flagship shuttle the _Page_.

“Dean!” calls Sam, relief evident in his voice. “Man, it’s good to see you. And hey, Cas, you too. You guys both okay?”

“Yeah, we’re good.” Dean glances back at Cas, who’s holstering his phaser. “Tell me you’ve got a plan. And something other than emergency rations for lunch.”


	11. Chapter 11

It turns out the other guy is one Rufus Turner, former Captain of the _USS Chevalier_ , current resident of this frozen rock they’re standing on, 2281 KX96, a planet he says is “so crappy it don’t have a name.” He and Bobby went to the academy together and served together for many years, apparently, before they had some kind of falling-out a few years before Dean and Sam had ended up staying with Bobby. It seems like now they’ve got things figured out, Dean thinks, because they’re grumping at each other in the way that Bobby only does with people he cares about.

Jody’s watching them both fondly--Sam leans over and whispers to Dean that she’s how Bobby got Rufus’s new coordinates since she’s arrested Rufus a couple times for disorderly conduct.

But they’ve brought food, and more supplies, and are headed back to Rufus’s cabin to make a plan. Dean’s more confident now, feeling a little less out of control, and he grins at Cas as they board the _Page_.

Cas raises an eyebrow at him, and Dean’s grin widens. _We’re gonna figure this out,_ he thinks. _We got this._

\-----

Rufus’s cabin is-- pretty much exactly what Dean expected of a man as unsociable as Rufus. It’s dark and quiet, the only building for miles, and not for the first time he wonders what exactly Rufus does out here on in the middle of nowhere. The guy used to be a captain, and a pretty good one, too, if what he remembers of the _Chevalier_ is right. But Bobby’s glare in his direction earlier had shut him up quickly. He resolves to pull his file when they get back on the _Impala_ and he has a spare minute.

But right now they’ve got a ship to retake.

“It’s a conspiracy.” Rufus isn’t one to mince words. “The high ups in Starfleet and on Vulcan are trying to start a war.” He turns and glares at Bobby and Jody. “I’ve been trying to tell you two idiots that for years, and _now_ you want my help? What, me being drummed out of Starfleet not enough proof for you?”

Bobby opens his mouth but nothing comes out. If it weren’t such a tense moment, Dean might laugh at the sight of Bobby speechless like this.

It’s Jody who speaks up instead. “The past is past, Rufus. You were right all along. It’s a conspiracy. Bobby was wrong. Can we move on?”

“ _Damn right_ I was right,” he mutters, and just like that the tension breaks. “So what’re we gonna do about it? And is there a _reason_ we’re dragging a Vulcan along for the ride?”

Dean bristles and steps in front of Cas. “Cas is all right, Rufus. He’s with me.”

Rufus raises a brow. “With you, is he now? Didn’t realize the rules on fraternization had changed so damn much.”

Dean pauses for a moment, parsing the response, then reddens and splutters “We’re not-- he’s-- first officer-- I--” 

Cas stands, brushing past Dean and speaks up. “My name is Castiel. I’m the first officer on the _Impala_.” He ignores the noises still coming from Dean and the identical smirks on Sam, Bobby and Jody’s faces. “And I am just as interested in ending this conspiracy as you are.”

“He’s one of the good guys, Rufus,” says Sam, and Dean glances at him gratefully.

“All right then,” says Rufus, still watching Cas with an air of suspicion. “Let’s get started.”

\-----

Rufus has a _lot_ of information.

He’s opening up drawers and pulling out paper folders and _of course_ someone this paranoid keeps all his records in hard copies instead of on PADDs like a normal person. 

Rufus sees Dean staring and snorts. “When you’ve had your research erased as many times as I have, kid, then you can laugh. Till then, shut your mouth before you catch flies.”

Dean shuts his mouth.

Jody pulls out a file from the stack, checking the label. “Rufus, is this whole stack just files on Starfleet officers you think are involved?”

He nods and she flips the folder open, eyebrows rising. “Captain Talbot? Bela Talbot?”

Rufus snorts. “And you’re surprised?”

“Guess not. She always was one to do what it takes for a bonus.”

Sam looks up from his examination of the antique guns on the wall. “And if it’s war with the Romulans they want, she’s gonna benefit.”

“Why would she benefit from war?” asks Cas.

“She has a, uh, side business, I guess you’d call it,” chimes in Dean. “Selling weapons to whoever can pay.”

Cas’s forehead wrinkles. “Federation weapons?”

Sam and Dean both nod.

“How can she do that? Especially if it’s common knowledge?”

Sam sighs. “People know, but it’s not exactly common knowledge, Cas. And she’s one of the best tacticians in the fleet. I think they don’t think they can afford to lose her.” He wanders over to Jody and scans the tabs of the folds in front of her. “And if even a quarter of these people are involved, she’s not going anywhere.”

Dean whistles. "Shit."

Cas nods in agreement.

Rufus pulls out another tall stack and drops it on the table in front of Cas and Dean. "And here's the Vulcan ones. He eyes Cas. "You're going against a lotta your own kind here. You know that, right?"

"I know." Cas is grim, and Dean resists the urge to step between him and Rufus as the two men's locked eyes don't break.

Finally, after a long moment, Rufus looks at Bobby. "You sure found yourself some interesting company while I've been gone, Bobby."

Bobby snorts and grabs a pile, tossing it to Sam and Jody. "Let's get reading, then."

\-----

They work in pairs and it goes pretty quickly. About half a given folder is the basic Starfleet intel on the subject: height, age, known affiliations, test results. The rest is in Rufus's cramped hand, notes on times and places and meetings and messages. There's theories in there as well. Some are reasonable and make Dean think ( _Captain Meg Masters: double agent?_ is written in one file and _Gordon Walker: still pissed about his sister; revenge on Romulans_ is written in another). Others are less plausible ( _Dick Roman: Brain filled with neural parasites?_ ). But as they read out their findings a pattern starts to emerge.

Most of the humans involved are around the same age and probably overlapped at the academy or served together as Ensigns. And at least ten of them, humans _and_ Vulcans, visited Abbadon at least three times in the last five years, many of their visits overlapping. And most of those are either in the weapons industry somehow, like Bela Talbot, or lost someone to the Romulans, like Gordon Walker.

They're starting to reach some kind of understanding of the material when Cas gently closes his folder and stands. Dean turns to look at him, but Cas is already walking out the door behind them.

Everyone else is wrapped up on their research and takes no notice, and Dean stands as well, grabbing two parkas from the rack by the door and following his first officer out the door.

Cas is standing a few yards from the house, shoulders hunched, staring across the icy landscape. Dean walks up beside him and stops, following his gaze to the horizon and standing quietly for a few moments.

Finally, he says quietly, "You okay, Cas?"

Castiel doesn’t move for a moment, still watching the setting of the double sun. After a moment, he gives the barest shake of his head.

Dean’s not really sure what to do. On the one hand, this is _Castiel_. Logical, cool, _Vulcan_ Cas, who doesn’t talk about feelings or what’s going on in his head. But on the other hand, this is _Cas_. Cas, who knew his mother. Cas, who he’s taught pool and poker and how to enjoy the hell out of a burger. Cas, who sits beside him for hours after a nightmare and who’s always there right behind him when there’s trouble. Cas, who he’s closer to than anyone except his brother.

He holds out a parka, but Cas doesn’t move. Dean drapes it over the Vulcan’s shoulders and pulls the other one on himself, sticking his hands in the pockets and leaning closer into Cas’s space.

“Talk to me.”

Cas sighs and sits carefully on the ground. Dean follows, sitting close enough that they’re pressed together hip to shoulder.

“Uriel and I were-- close, once. We shared many classes in school and our families still live in the same section of the city.” His fists are clenched, something Dean’s never seen before. “And Zachariah was a friend of my family for many years. Some of the others-- Raphael, Michael-- are well-respected members of the high council.” He finally turns to Dean, blue eyes piercing. “I don’t understand why they’d be involved in this, Dean.”

Dean shakes his head, looking back at Cas helplessly. “I dunno, Cas.”

Cas nods as if that’s what he expected and looks down at his hands. “I’ve always been different, Dean. I’ve never quite fit in with my race. That’s why I’m here in Starfleet, I suppose. And maybe that’s why I don’t understand this.” There’s what might be a tremor in his voice, and Dean can’t help himself any longer. He slides an arm around Cas’s shoulders, pulling him into a hug.

“We’re gonna figure it out, Cas. And yeah, you’re different, but hell, so am I. I never fit it with all the academy crap, you know that. And--” he takes a breath, nervous all of a sudden, “--and I don’t want you to change. You’re awesome, Cas. And you’re my best friend. And even if you lose Uriel and Zachariah and all them, you know you’re always welcome in our family, right? I mean, it’s not much to write home about, but--”

He’s cut off by a pair of lips pressed to his fiercely, quickly, then pulled away. Dazed, Dean stares at Cas, jaw dropping.

The Vulcan stares back at him, cheeks suffused with a pale green flush. A distant part of Dean notes that even the pointed tips of his ears have a greenish tinge. Suddenly Cas moves, standing and stumbling backwards. “I can’t-- I don’t--” He turns as Dean scrambles to his feet, catching his arm as Cas turns to flee back into the house.

“Cas, wait!” Dean’s grip is a vice around his wrist and while Dean knows Cas could pull away, he’d have to break Dean’s fingers to do so. Instead he stills, staring at the ice on the ground. “Hold on.” He takes a deep breath and meets Cas’s eyes, noting the panic in them and the trembling of his hand under Dean’s grip. 

“We can’t do this, Cas–” Cas pales as Dean speaks, tensing, and Dean hurries to continue– “not right now, anyway. Let’s figure out this conspiracy or whatever-the-fuck-it-is first, and then– then we can talk about this, okay?”

Cas nods, jaw clenched. 

Dean looks at him for a moment, at the green flush and the tense shoulders, and thinks _fuck it_. He leans in slowly, eyes on Cas’s, tilts his head, and kisses Cas gently, one hand loosening on the Vulcan’s wrist and the other coming up to curl around the nape of his neck and bury in his thick hair. Cas is still a moment, then responds, eyes still locked on Dean’s. They stay like that for a moment, not deepening the kiss, until Dean pulls back.

“Later. I promise.” He slides his hand down Cas’s shoulder, reluctant to pull away completely. He finds Cas’s hand and wraps it in his briefly, standing and pulling Cas up with him, before dropping it and turning to the house. “C’mon. We got a conspiracy to beat.”


	12. Chapter 12

Back inside, with Sam and Bobby and Jody and Rufus surrounding him and Cas, Dean tries not to panic.

Sure, he and Cas have been in strange situations before. They’ve been sent back in time, sobbed in each other’s arms under the influence of an alien virus, been tied to each other in tiny cells, and they’ve saved each other’s lives more times than he can count. They’ve been basically family for at least the eight years they’ve served together if not longer, and Dean’s pretty sure the number of times he’s fallen asleep draped over Cas is a lot higher than he’d be willing to admit.

And sure, they’re close. They know each other’s secrets, their histories, their fears and dreams. They’ve spent long nights talking and pretty much every day just a few feet apart these last eight years. Before today, he would have told anyone who asked that he and Cas are as close as a Vulcan and human can get.

But this is different. They’ve crossed a line here that he’s not sure can be uncrossed, and he’s terrified to realize he doesn’t want to go back.

“–Dean?” He starts, looking up into his brother’s face. Sam’s eyebrows are drawn together, his eyes narrowed. “You with us, Dean?”

Dean runs a hand over his face and tries to focus on the conversation. “Yeah, I’m good. Go on.” He waves at Sam to continue.

Sam looks at him suspiciously for a moment, then shakes his head. “Anyway. Looks like we’re dealing with a pretty big group of people with a lot of power in both Starfleet and the High Council on Vulcan. Seems like peace with the Romulans wasn’t what they wanted, especially now that we’ve got a treaty with the Klingons and most of the other hostile races have either been defeated or joined the Federation. The weapons trade has decreased to 20% of ten years ago, and Federation policy lately has been to smooth over incidents with the Romulans like the crash that killed Kayla Walker. The Romulan government is supposed to punish the offenders, but in that particular instance at least the perp got a slap on the wrist.” He flips through his notes. “On the Vulcan side, it looks like it’s more of a racial thing.”

Cas nods, interjecting, “Despite the peace of the last two centuries, opinions of Romulans are still very low on Vulcan, especially among the older members of the Council.”

Sam nods back. “Exactly.” He sets down the folder and turns to Dean. “So what now?”

Dean glances at Bobby, who gives him a ‘get on with it’ gesture. “Uh, well, we can’t do much trapped here on this rock. So first order of business is to get back to the _Impala_.”

Grinning, Jody pulls a large, aluminum case from her bag. “They’re right where we left them.” She opens the case.

Dean grins back at her, staring down at the _Impala_ ’s entire store of dilithium crystals. “ _Awesome._ ”

She closes the box gently and puts it back in her bag. “I think they were pretty pissed when Sam and I took off in the shuttle and they couldn’t go faster than impulse.”

“So they should still be relatively close to their previous location?” asks Cas. He’s stepped up close behind Dean and as he speaks his hand brushes the small of Dean’s back. 

“Yeah,” replies Sam, “And Charlie, Kevin and Ensign Fitzgerald took the _Bonham_ straight to Lilith. They’re going to try and figure out the grain situation.”

“And that means both warp-capable shuttles are off the ship,” adds Jody.

Dean’s grin turns shark-like. “So they’re dead in the water.” He stands. “Let’s go take back my damn ship.”


	13. Chapter 13

Six of them is a tight fit in a shuttle built for speed, not for carrying cargo, but they manage it. Dean pilots, with Cas in the seat beside him, and tries to ignore the energy thrumming between them. The four in the back are going over the notes Sam’s made in his PADD as Rufus grumbles about data security and government bugs, but up front it’s quiet. Their eyes keep meeting and holding, and finally Dean reaches over and takes Cas’s hand in his and the tension releases a little. They’re close enough together that he can lay their laced hands on his thigh and still pilot easily, and the instrument cluster between the seats hides them from the view of the others.

\-----

Dean knows his ship. He knows it damn well.

So when they get within a few hundred thousand kilometers of the Impala, he pulls his hand from Cas's and drops the ship out of warp. Next he adjusts the frequency of their shielding, and sends a transmission to a private receptor in his quarters.

Bobby watches over his shoulders, eyebrows raised. "I take it this ain't the first time this sort of thing has happened, then?"

Behind them Sam and Jody snort in unison.

Cas answers for all of them with a very dry, "No."

The ship is not far from where they'd left it; either Gordon was waiting for rescue or he'd found a way off the ship. Either way, the Impala is drifting in space.  
It's only a few minutes before a response comes through on the private channel and Dean puts it up on the screen.

Benny's face appears, a slow smile spreading across it as he leans in. "Hey there, Brother." He looks closer. "You got quite a crowd there. Lookin' to come back aboard?"

Dean grins back. "Gotta get my ship back, Benny. You ready for us?"

"One emergency, coming right up. Gimme ten minutes." Benny ends the transmission.

Dean turns around, meeting each of their gazes in turn. "You all good to go?"

They all give various gestures of agreement: Bobby touches the brim of his cap, Sam and Jody both nod and cross their arms over their chests, and Rufus grunts a laugh. Cas looks at him, eyes boring into Dean's, and Dean hits the engines. 

Ten minutes later, Jody's tapped into the security feeds from the corridors and they wait for Benny's distraction. Knowing Benny, it's not going to be subtle, thinks

Dean, and he’s proven right when a cloud of black smoke fills the corridor just outside the bridge. Dean winces, trying not to think about what systems Benny sabotaged to cause that response, and pilots in as soon as he sees Gordon rush off the bridge. On a lower deck, there's water rushing out of a turbolift and on another four of Gordon's security staff are chasing a lone tribble (or is it two? Or four?).

"That Klingon of yours doesn't mess around," says Bobby begrudgingly.

Dean snorts as Ensign Rosen pads out into an empty corridor near the deflector dish access port and tucks a large case into a cabinet. She hurries off once the door is secure and Dean turns to Jody, who shrugs.

"She's under orders to put weapons and surveillance reports on the intruders there as soon as she gets the signal from Benny that we're on the way back in."

"You sure we can trust her?" Dean's face is skeptical. 

It's Sam who speaks up. "Becky's all right, Dean. She's got nothing against Romulans and she's committed to you and the ship."

"Oh, yeah, committed to Dean," Jody mutters quietly and Sam blushes.

Dean doesn’t ask. He doesn’t really want to know.

The Page pulls into position under the dish access port and Dean extends the maglock until it snaps into place with a clank that he sincerely hopes no one heard.

There’s no one on the camera in the corridor, and no one comes running in the few seconds he watches, so he figures this is their best shot.

“All right, Jody, you and Bobby head to the brig and get anyone who’s locked in there out-- it’s a good bet they’ll be on our side if Gordon needed to throw them in there. Sam, Rufus, you’re on backup duty. Stay with Cas and me-- we’re heading to the bridge. Cas, you’re in charge of getting them locked out of our systems.

Activate emergency protocol Gamma-5; when we get to the bridge that’ll make every door seal and only be accessible with a handprint from you, me, Sam or Jody.” He reaches up and unlocks the shuttle’s dorsal port. “Let’s go.”

They enter undetected, though Dean can hear the alarms throughout the ship for the other emergencies. Jody and Bobby split off to the brig and the four of them continue down the hallway to the jeffries tube access hatch. As Dean pulls it open and ushers Sam, then Rufus in, a phaser shot rings out and Cas lets out an “Oof!” and falls against Dean, phaser out and firing back. Dean hears a thump and sees a red-shirted man fall a few yards away. He wraps a hard around Cas’s bicep and drags him into the tube, shutting the hatch and sealing it with a captain’s override.

“Shit, Cas, you okay?” He runs a hand over Cas’s shoulders, checking for a wound, and hisses when he sees the blood trickling through Cas’s uniform. 

“I’m all right,” says Cas, kneeling in the tub and examining his forearm. “It was a glancing shot. We need to keep moving.”

Sam shoulders past Dean and examines it, nodding. “He’s right, Dean. He’ll be fine.” He wraps a quick bandage from his kit around the area then looks to Dean. “Keep moving?”

“Yeah,” Dean replies gruffly, and crawls forward.

They don’t meet any more resistance on their way to the bridge, but Cas’s quick scan through the hatch when they reach the port just outside the door isn’t promising.

“They’re all back on the bridge, it seems,” he says, squinting at the readings. “Reading nine lifesigns, seven human, two Vulcan.”

“All right. That’s three for each of Sam, Rufus and me. Cas, you focus on getting the emergency program activated.”

Cas nods, and Dean carefully lowers the hatch and slides down into the empty corridor. The other three follow, and they arrange themselves around the door. Dean counts down from three, then hits the panel.

They burst through the door all at once, phasers on stun, and knock out two of the security guys on the first shot, Cas runs to the panel behind one of the stunned officers and starts typing as Dean, Rufus and Sam duck behind the consoles and pick off another redshirt. 

As the conspirators duck down and take cover, shooting back, Dean takes stock of who’s on the bridge. There’s Gordon, of course, grinning from behind the Captain’s chair; the guy always did take too much enjoyment out of a fight. To his left is Commander Creedy, a close friend of Kubrick’s and all around creepy dude. To his right is Zachariah, the asshole from Abbadon, and Dean’s heart sinks a little to see Cas’s young friend Inias alongside him.

Next is Commander Tim Janklow, who’d been a friend of John’s when Dean and Sam were kids. He’d always had a kind of xenophobia, and Dean isn’t surprised to see him here.

And he’s torn between anger, empathy for Sam and vindication of his own suspicions when he sees that the last human is their own engineer Ruby Masters. 

Sam notices at the same time, and Dean sees him hesitate as his shoulders slump. Dean resolves to set Sam up with some chicks who _aren’t_ evil after this is over.

Rufus ducks around the security station and fires, hitting Tim with a solid hit and knocking him to the ground. But he’s hit as well as Gordon moves almost inhumanly fast, firing off a quick shot. Rufus collapses to the ground, and Dean fervently hopes Gordon’s phaser was set to stun, but he’s not no chance to check on Rufus as Zachariah raises his voice above the din.

“Castiel.” His calm voice is eerie, cutting through the phaser fire.  “Are you really going to side with these humans against your own kind?”

Cas ignores him, pressing his palm to the panel. 

“ _Emergency Program Gamma-five activated. Doors sealing._ ”

“Don’t you want to come back home, Castiel? You may not be able to if you keep doing what you’re doing.”

Cas fires a shot at Zachariah, just barely missing, and ducks back down as shots fly his way in return. Dean shoots back, trying to drown out the Vulcan’s voice as he continues.

“We know where your father is, Castiel. But he won’t want to see you if you work against us.”

Dean sees a shudder go down Cas’s spine before he squares his shoulders and shoots again, this time coming so close he singes the sleeve of Zachariah’s robe.

 _Bastard’s too quick for even Cas to hit_ , Dean thinks, trying to find a way to get around behind him.

“And you, Dean Winchester.” Dean freezes as the smooth voice turns towards him. “Your mother was killed by Romulan insurgents. Why are you defending this peace?”

Dean ignores him, aiming for  Creedy and firing. In the corner of his eye he sees Sam leaning over Rufus while the attention is off him.

Dean’s shot misses as Creedy ducks and turns, firing his own phaser at Sam . Sam falls to the ground and Dean dives towards him, dodging a phaser beam and dragging Sam back behind the console. He rushes to check his pulse and lets out a sigh of relief  when he feels a strong pulse. He’s only stunned.

“Castiel! You’re a traitor to your race!” calls Zachariah again, and Dean’s getting pretty fucking fed up. He stands quickly, taking aim and--

a phaser blast whines from the front of the bridge, and Zachariah falls. Dean shifts his aim and takes out Creedy instead, while Cas maneuvers with the sort of speed only a Vulcan can manage to disarm Ruby and pin her arms behind her back.

Inias stands in the center of the bridge, phaser out, arm trembling. His face is pale and he glances to Castiel. “He’s wrong about you, Castiel.”

Cas stares at him, speechless. Dean carefully pries the phaser from Inias’s fingers and holders it in his own belt, then checks Zachariah’s pulse.

Nothing. He sits back on his heels, muttering, “ _Shit._ ”


	14. Chapter 14

The knock on the door is unexpected and Inias rises from his meditation, blowing out the candle and folding his cloth away. “Enter.”

There’s a pause as the guards unseal the door, then it opens with a hiss.

The room is dark, much darker than the brightly lit corridor, and Inias has to squint to make out the figure standing in the doorway.

“Castiel?”

“Inias.” Castiel hesitates, then walks into the room. “Are you well?” The Vulcan phrase is awkward on his tongue after spending so much time with humans.

“Computer, adjust lights to 70 percent of full.” The lights raise until Castiel’s face is fully visible, but Inias glances around the room instead of at his fellow Vulcan. “These quarters provide everything I need. Thank you.” Inias has no doubt who had ensured he’d be in quarters rather than in a cell in the brig. He gestures to the small table in the center of the room. “Join me for a cup of spice tea?” 

Castiel nods and walks to the sink pulling out two mugs and filling them with hot water from the tap with the ease of long practice. Inias hands him the box of powdered tea from his travel case and Castiel mixes it in carefully, then sets a cup at each chair and sits in the seat closest to the door.

Inias sits across from him tensely, still not meeting his eyes.

Castiel sighs. “Inias.” He leans forward. “We have known each other many years, have we not?”

Inias nods.

“You were one of my most promising students at the academy.”

Silence.

“Your career has shown promise, Inias. I am– pleased.”

Inias’s eyes dart up at this, finally meeting Castiel’s.

Castiel’s voice turns soft. “Please, explain to me how you became involved with Zachariah’s conspiracy.”

Inias sighs and looks into his tea. “If I may have a moment to compose myself?”

“Of course.”

They sit in silence, sipping their tea, until Inias sets the cup down gently and the table and folds his hands together. He looks up at Castiel and begins, “When you resigned from the academy, it– altered the balance within the school.”

“How so?”

“There was no one to challenge Zachariah. No one to show other perspectives beyond the traditional.” He leans back a little in his chair. “We are a race of traditions, Castiel. You know that.”

“Tradition without reflection or change is dangerous.”

There’s rueful amusement on Inias’s face when he replies. “Yes. I am aware of that.” The expression ages him. And Castiel sudden has the strange sensation of seeing double-- the earnest young face of his favorite student is layered with the pale, bruised-eyed stranger in front of him.

"What happened, Inias?" He asks quietly. "You were once a passionate advocate for peace."

Inias looks away. "Do you remember Samandriel?"

Castiel nods, a sinking sensation in his stomach. Samandriel and Inias had been close friends forty years ago, when they'd been in his courses. He been quiet and earnest and Castiel had hoped he would have a successful career in philosophy or science.

"He was killed. Twenty years ago." Inias's jaw is tight. "His ship had a mechanical failure and drifted into the Neutral Zone." 

"I'm sorry, Inias. I know you were colleagues."

Inias shakes his head. "We were not only colleagues, Castiel. We were--" he swallows and meets Castiel's eyes. "We were bonded."

Castiel can't hide his surprise. When they'd been his students, both had been promised to female Vulcans of high status. Broken bonds are rare on Vulcan, as are male-to-male bonds-- at least they had been when he'd last lived on his home world. _Perhaps things have changed,_ he thinks. _It has been many years since I visited_.

"His loss was not--easy, for me, Castiel. It changed my opinion on the war and on Romulans. And Zachariah's invective began to seem more logical. After Samandriel's death I was lost. I had nowhere to look for instruction, for leadership. The Romulans have taken much from us. From me. I began to think that perhaps Zachariah was right and peace was not the most rational solution. It was easier to follow him and let anger rule me than cope with the emptiness left by Samandriel's death."

Castiel isn't really sure what to say, and the silence stretches for a moment. _He has indeed changed_ , he thinks as he watches this stranger wearing his friend's face. _These last years have not been easy for him._  

Finally, Castiel breaks the silence. "The Samandriel I knew was a staunch advocate for peace, Inias. Surely you don't believe he would approve of Zachariah's methods."

Inias shakes his head. "No. I know now that he would not." There's something in his hand and he turns it over, holding it tightly. Castiel's heart clenches even tighter as he realizes it's a scrap of burned and dirty fabric in the red of Samandriel's family crest.

They sit for a few more moments in silence, but it's a more comfortable one.

"Inias--" Castiel stands. "I must return to my duties."

Inias stands as well, raising a hand in salute. "Live long, and prosper, Castiel."

Castiel returns the gesture and replies, "Peace and long life, Inias." But he hesitates at the door, turning once more to the other Vulcan.

"He would be proud of you, I believe. For saving us from Zachariah. For returning to our tenets of diversity and peace." He steps out, leaving Inias to his grief.

\-----

The door clicks shut, and Castiel takes a deep breath, focusing his mind for a moment before a voice makes him start.

“How’d it go?” Sam’s leaning against the wall of the corridor holding a medkit.

Cas hesitates. “He is– conflicted. Unsure where to place his loyalties. And he has not had an easy time the last twenty years."

Sam gives a crooked smile. “I get that.”

Suddenly Cas recalls that the traitor on their ship, Ruby Masters, is Sam’s girlfriend. Or she had been, until today. Perhaps not anymore.

"I'm sorry, Sam." He places a careful hand on the human's shoulder. 

Sam nods and puts his hand on Cas’s for a moment, then pulls away and pushes past him towards the door. As he passes, he says in a shaky voice, "Thanks, Cas."

Cas watches him enter Inias's room and shakes his head. _I don't believe anyone can help him through this. Though Dean will try._

The door slides shut behind Sam and Castiel turns towards the bridge.


	15. Chapter 15

It’s been a long day on the _Impala._

With the dilithium restored to its place in the warp core, the Impala is ready for action once more. Inias will join them as a sort of enforced-guest until the trial scheduled for a few months later, and Ruby will be imprisoned in the brig for a long stay until they can figure out what to do with her. Zachariah’s body will be brought back to Vulcan for burial. The outcome of Inias's trial is anyone's guess.

They drop Rufus and Bobby back at the cabin with a temporary loan of the _Page._ The two of them are going to lead the charge to clear the conspirators from Starfleet, although with Gordon gone the task will be easier than it would have been before. Rufus blusters about having to put Bobby up, but Jody smacks him across the head and tells him "You know you don't mind, you old phony." Bobby just shakes his head and steps into the shuttle, his expression long-suffering.

There’s still the matter of Kevin and Charlie and Lilith and the grain,  but Dean figures the senior staff deserve a break before they’re ready to deal with Subcommander Crowley and his henchmen. He sets the night crew up to run things with strict instructions not to disturb him unless something is exploding, on fire, or infecting more than half the crew and pulls Cas off the bridge by a wrist.

Castiel turns to him as the turbolift doors slide shut, a quizzical look on his face. “Captain? Do you need me for something this evening?”

“Yeah, Cas. I do.” He sighs in irritation and falls silent as two ensigns join them on the lift and hopes Cas doesn’t continue the conversation until they’re alone.

No such luck. 

“I wasn’t aware we had a meeting this evening.”

Dean sometimes wonders if Cas understands more than he seems to about human interaction, and if he’s just fucking with Dean when he gets them into situations like this one. He’s never quite been able to figure it out.

But Cas is watching him curiously as the silence stretches and the two ensigns are shifting uncomfortably, and he sighs loudly, shaking his head and looking to the ceiling. “Yes, Cas, we have a meeting. In my quarters. That we discussed earlier.”

Cas is still staring at him as though he’s a particularly fascinating spacial anomaly.

The doors open and the ensigns leave quickly, tripping over each other in their haste to escape the awkward tension. The doors snap shut and Dean throws his hands up in the air, muttering, “ _For fuck’s sake_ ,” and crowds Cas against the wall, kissing him thoroughly before pulling away. “ _That_ meeting.”

“ _Oh_ ,” says Cas, cheeks bright green. “ _That_ meeting.”

Dean snorts and takes him by the wrist once more, peeking out the door. The corridor is empty and he darts out, jogging towards his quarters and dragging an unresisting Cas behind him. As ridiculous as he knows they look now, moving quickly will minimize the chance of someone seeing them. And glancing back at Cas--

Yeah. Definitely need to minimize that risk.

The Vulcan’s still flushed green, lips swollen and hair mussed where Dean’s hand had buried itself. He’s got a dazed look in his eyes and his uniform is twisted slightly, the material pulling to one side.

Dean smirks. If Cas were a human, he’d look pretty normal. But for a Vulcan to look this messy? Yeah, Dean's difinitely having an effect.

They reach Dean’s quarters, though Dean’s convinced the corridor lengthened substantially somehow since the last time he’d taken it.

The door slides shut behind them, and suddenly the urgency is gone and they're staring at each other across the inches between them, neither moving. 

They've spent so much time alone in this room and while tonight is certainly different, it doesn't really feel it yet to Dean. It's just him and Cas and something they haven’t really ahd time to talk about but they both know is there.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean’s not sure how to bridge the sudden miles between them.

Cas moves first, reaching a tentative hand out to him. He brushes his fingertips down the side of Dean’s index finger, and Dean shudders at the spark that runs through him at the touch. Cas steps closer until Dean can feel his breath against his cheek, and whispers into Dean’s ear.

“Vulcan biology is different in some crucial ways from that of humans.” His fingers linger, curling around Dean’s. _Our telepathy is strongest through touch._

Dean jolts a little at Cas’s voice inside his mind. _Yeah?_ He tilts his head, touching his mouth lightly to Cas’s neck. _You hearing me now?_

Cas gasps as Dean’s breath ghosts across his jaw, replying, _Yes, Dean. I hear you._

Walking backwards, Dean pulls Cas with him towards the bedroom, pressing light kisses to his jaw.

Somehow it’s easier to speak to Cas from inside his own mind. _I never thought we’d be here._ He fumbles with the panel, letting the door slide open and crowding Cas through it. _I didn’t even know this is what I wanted._ The back of Dean’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he sits, sliding back and pulling Cas down beside him until they’re lying face-to face on Dean’s memory foam. He reaches for Cas, clasping his hand once more. _I don’t deserve you, Cas._

Cas stills and tightens his grip on Dean’s fingers. “Dean,” he says, this time aloud. “You are a good man. Good things can happen to you.”

Dean smiles, not willing to fight this out with Cas now. He presses forward, trying to capture Cas’s lips in a kiss, but Cas draws back, brows furrowed. 

“Vulcans do not enter into physical relationships lightly, Dean. I need you to know that.”

“Cas...”

“I acted–” Cas’s cheeks color even more deeply– “impulsively, on 2281 KX96.”

Dean takes a minute to parse the numbers, then blinks at Cas. “What, the _kiss_? You– are you saying you– do you regret it?” His words tumble out over each other and he feels his stomach drop as Cas is silent for a few seconds.

“No, Dean. I don’t regret it,” he says after a moment. “I just– it took me some time to understand it.”

Dean can sympathize.

Cas’s hand loosens on Deans, and he slides their fingers together gently. _You make me_ ** _feel_ , **_Dean. It’s very disconcerting._

Dean’s about to laugh when he sees how serious Cas’s face is, and reaches out instinctively to brush against Cas’s mind.

He’s swept up in a wave of thoughts swirling just beneath the surface–

_–Dean–brave–beautiful–Captain–Dean–love/need/want–Dean–Mary–Mary’s son–family/home/peace/love–Dean–_

He rolls back, breaking the contact, and pants harshly, pressing the heels of his hands to his eyes to clear the lights still flashing and to rub away the tears pricking in their corners. “The hell was that?” He asks harshly, trying to catch his breath.

“That–” Cas shakes his head, eyes wide and face pale again. “That should have been impossible." He takes a deep breath. "But I should know never to use that word around you, Dean.” He reaches out tentatively and Dean doesn’t flinch away when Cas’s fingers brush his cheek. “It was a kind of bond. But it’s something that should only be possible for Vulcans.”

“Yeah?” Dean smirks. “Guess I’m special, then.”

Cas’s hand cups his cheek gently. “Yes. Yes you are.” He leans in and fits his mouth to Dean’s, and through the connection Dean can feel a wave of contentment with an undercurrent of heat rushing through Cas’s mind. He sends back an image of the two of them with torsos bare and Cas’s lips twitch against his in what he knows is a Vulcan smile. And suddenly, effortlessly, he’s rolled on his back, Cas straddling him in an easy motion and yanking Dean’s uniform top off his body.

He'll never admit it out loud, but being manhandled like that? Dean can't even express how much it turns him on. He scrabbles for the hem of Cas’s shirt and growls in frustration when he finds it’s tangled in his belt. He yanks harder, pulling it free, and shoves it up enough that he can slide his hands underneath.

He’s seen Cas shirtless before. He’s even had his hands against the Vulcan’s smooth, warm skin. But it’s always been while Cas is injured or ill or some other emergency and this is the first time he’s able to really _savor_ it. 

He splays his fingers against Cas’s waist, thumbs stroking his taut abs and fingers sliding up his sides. _Figures,_ he thinks wryly. _Of course you’re not ticklish._

He feels Cas’s amusement flowing across their link and slides his hands further back, pulling Cas down against him and pushing his shirt further up until Cas reaches down and pulls it off himself. Their chests press together, cool pinked human skin against heated Vulcan flushed pale green, and Dean can’t help but slide his hand up until it’s buried in Cas’s hair and kiss him. _I like this_ , he thinks at Cas. _Means I can still talk to you while we do this_. 

Cas’s hand slides down his side and works its way under him, cupping his ass. _I do not anticipate much conversation._

Dean shivers, panting against Cas’s mouth as the movement presses them closer together and he feels the hard line of Cas’s cock against his hip. _Yeah. Maybe not._ His hand joins the other back on Cas’s waist and both slide down until they’re slipping under Cas’s waistband and skimming the top of his ass.

_You make me want things, Dean. Feel things._ Cas pushes against Dean’s waistband with his thumbs, working it down over his hips and pressing fingers into the crease of Dean’s thigh. _Things I had not considered before I met you._

Dean moans as his eyes flutter shut and his head falls back against the pillow. As Cas’s hands slide inward, brushing the sensitive skin on Dean’s inner thighs and spreading them so Cas can settle between them, the feelings intensify.

Waves of want and need flow across the link between them, from Dean to Cas, and Dean jerks as something breaks and the feelings come flooding back to him along the bond. He’s filled with a sense of longing and a depth of need that’s as strong as his own. His hands scrabble at Cas’s sides, desperate for purchase, and shove at the Vulcan’s pants until Cas lifts enough for them to be pushed down his thighs.

Now they’re pressed together, thigh to shoulder, and the link widens. Dean’s nearly overwhelmed with sensation as he feels his skin against Cas’s and Cas’s against his and the throbbing of his own erection and its mirror in Cas’s and he can’t help but whimper and grind up against him. _Cas–_ he cries silently as he falls deeper into the feelings and feels the waves cresting higher and higher. _Cas!_

A presence wraps around him and draws him upwards towards the light and he feels himself catching hold of his body once again.

_I’ve got you, Dean. Stay with me._

Cas’s bright blue eyes are boring into his as he opens his own and Dean takes a deep, shuddery breath. _I’ve never felt anything like this before, Cas. Is this what it’s supposed to be like with a Vulcan?_

He feels something like a chuckle. _I assume so._

_You’ve never–_ Dean stops himself. _It doesn’t matter. Just– stay with me?_

_Always._ Cas rocks against him gently, their erections sliding against each other and Dean feels the rising tide of sensation threatening to carry him away again, but against that pull tugs Cas’s mind, mooring and anchoring him as he clutches at his arms. This time the waves just brush through him, not pushing him into that abyss but lifting him higher, closer to Cas.

They move against each other without the frantic pace of earlier, but with eyes locked and bodies aligned, and Dean can feel himself moving closer and closer to the edge. Cas’s blue eyes are wide, pupils huge and dark, and his breath is harsh just millimeters from Dean’s lips.

Dean strains upwards to capture them in a kiss as he grips Cas tighter, letting himself relax into the Vulcan’s grip mentally and physically, and he shudders as his orgasm rocks through him. Cas presses into him once, twice, three more times, before stilling and letting out a long groan and coming as well with a telepathic burst of _Dean!_ , then collapsing down against him.

They rest in silence for a moment, chests heaving and bodies shaking with sensation, until Cas lifts his head and kisses Dean softly.

_Well that was different_ , Dean sends, flexing his hands to try and relieve the tingling in his fingertips. _Not that I’m complaining._ He shifts, and Cas rolls to the side and onto his back, pulling Dean against him. _I’m just about ready to pass out, though._

Cas smiles in his Vulcan way. _Then sleep. I’ll be here._

Dean presses his head against Cas's shoulder, burrowing into his neck. Cas lays a careful arm around his waist.

“You sure you don’t need to sleep, Cas?” Dean’s yawning, his words beginning to slur.

Cas shakes his head. “Not yet. Perhaps later in the night.” He presses a kiss to Dean’s forehead and tightens his arms around him. “Sleep, Dean. I’ll watch over you.”

As Dean drifts off, Castiel looks down at the human pressed against him.

It’s not logical for Dean to mean so much to him. They’re colleagues, and friends, and he’s cared about Dean’s family for longer than Dean’s been alive. But when he watches Dean curl against his side, contentment and drowsiness radiating across their bond, Cas feels his lips stretch and a warm sensation spread through his chest. It should be impossible to feel so many things from Dean; no human he’s met has lodged inside his head like this one. He and Dean are in the beginnings of a Vulcan bond that should be biologically impossible. This man has wormed his way into Castiel’s mind and heart and body somehow, and Cas wouldn’t have it any other way.

 

\-----

They wake up to the insistent beeping of the alarm and Dean curses and tells the computer to shut up. Cas is blinking awake against him, hair ruffled and sleep-soft like many mornings previously, but there are a few key differences today.

For one, Cas is naked. Dean lets his eyes roam up his first officer’s torso, lingering on taut shoulders and firm biceps and continuing up until their eyes meet. He smiles and reaches out, brushing Cas’s bangs back into some semblance of order. “Morning, Cas.”

“Hello, Dean,” replies Cas, leaning into Dean’s touch. Dean’s sliding his hand down Cas’s chest, legs tangling with Cas’s, when the alarm beeps again, louder and more insistent than before.

“ _Fine._ ” Dean sighs. He sits up and turns to Cas, pointing a finger at him. “We’ll finish this later.” He ducks into the shower and by the time he’s back out Cas is dressed and just about ready for his shift. He shakes his head at the Vulcan efficiency and shakes out the pants he’d left crumpled on the floor last night.

Cas hands him a clean uniform top as he pulls on his pants and he finger combs the wild locks behind Cas’s ears. Together they step out into the hallway, hands brushing and steps in sync, and make their way to the turbolift. No one stops them on the way, but he can hear whispers and he grins in response. Let them all wonder why he’s so damn cheerful this morning, he thinks as he presses the button for the bridge. He’s already looking forward to the rumors that’ll be spread.

Dean grins as he steps onto the bridge and settles in his chair. He’s got his Vulcan on one side, his brother on the other, and his ship in top condition purring under him. It’s a good day to be captain.

**Author's Note:**

> This story contains a little bit of Sam/Ruby. It's not much, but if you HATE HATE HATE it, that's a warning.\
> 
> There's also Inias/Samandriel. I can't imagine anyone hating that.


End file.
